


You Who Walk Empty Streets

by scy



Category: Supernatural/Sandman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scy/pseuds/scy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone belongs to something they don't quite understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Who Walk Empty Streets

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw Tessa in 2x01 I knew I was going to write this eventually. Then I dreamed it.

"Hey, wake up," ordered a girl's voice, and Dean struggled to open his eyes.

"Not asleep," he said groggily.

"You're just taking a rest," she said more tartly than she would have if they'd gone to bed together the night before. "I know, you're waiting for someone. Alright, let's see if your brother shows up before it's time to go."

Her mentioning Sam got Dean's instincts together more quickly than a slap to the face and his eyes cracked open. He looked up at the person crouched beside him in sudden recognition. "Tessa. Nice to see you."

"Especially after the way we parted," Tessa said knowingly.

"Is it rude for one demon to butt into another's business deals?"

"I'm not a demon, Dean, but it definitely is. I've brought the issue up, and those in authority over that one have found it sorely impertinent."

"They care about that stuff in Hell?"

"Without order there is chaos, and even the damned object to that."

"Weird," Dean said. He blinked cold sweat out of his eyes and stared at her. His vision had blurred and when he blinked a second time, she'd changed. Paler, black hair, black and white. Like the universe's absolute constant, ever inevitable. "You're not wearing the same skin."

"Don't you vary your clothing?" She asked and tugged on her shirt where it was riding up.

"I thought some things came standard," Dean ventured.

"Reapers don't pop into being with starter kits," she said, and it could have been mean but she made it gentle. "They're all different forms I take on as the situation calls for it."

"Oh." He could feel her sincerity, not that she couldn't twist the truth, but that he'd know if she did and him being that in tune meant one thing. Blood soaked his shirt and beneath it there was something torn in his belly.

"Will it take long?" Dean wanted to know.

"I don't decide these things," she said.

"That's not how it works?" It didn't sound right, of anybody, Dean should get a say.

"Never has been." She sounded like it was nothing worth her time to struggle with it.

"And you don't change the rules?"

"Not really my place."

There was something about the way she said the last part; some truth being compressed between the words that was important.

"You have, right?" Dean said.

"Well, you're still here, and I've had appointments with you a couple times," she said.

"I didn't see you before the hospital." Which he remembered now, all of it, like he'd dreamed it once and was now pulling it together.

"Didn't need to, it wasn't your time after all."

"And now?"

"You'll come with me when you let go and take my hand."

"Easy there, I'm not that simple," he warned.

"Every mortal is, in the end," she said.

"Not this one." That was one thing about the Winchesters, they didn't give in, they handled what came at them, including the future their own way.

"You're not willing to be," she corrected.

"I've got too much here." ALways had, and if he didn't there wouldn't be a point.

"What you have is your brother."

"That's enough."

"Even he may not stay with you."

"What he does is his choice and none of your business," Dean said in a low voice.

"Everyone's life becomes my business eventually. Try not to get mad, you'll hurt yourself," she said, putting a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Worse? Is that possible?"

"Always."

Dean let that point stand and tried to raise his wrist. He couldn't see the numbers on his watch at all and let his arm fall back down. "How long has it been?"

"An hour since I found you."

"And I called Sam-"

"Forty minutes ago," she added, "He promised he'd hurry."

"Are you going to fade out again when he shows up? He'll have a few questions if you don't."

"Nobody can see me if it's not time, or if they haven't been here already," she said unconcerned.

"Screw that, I'm not going anywhere."

"I heard you."

"So you're sticking around because?"

"I'm not needed anywhere more than here."

"In the whole world, nobody's dying while you hang out with me?"

"I'm not just here, and anyway, this is important."

"For me or you?"

"Both of us."

"You need some friends," he said.

"I have enough, Dean, and you could use one right now."

"Aren't you going to hold onto me?"

"I don't need to, Dean. I open doors, I'm not going to push you through."

Dean inhaled and heard wetness in the shaky breath. "You think that's going to happen here?"

She shrugged, making it more an apology than a careless movement.

"Not your bag?"

"There's a book that holds the future but it's not mine to carry or read."

"But you know the guy who hauls it around," he said.

"I do."

"You're here, solid, whatever." Dean was fixing on what he could see and feel right in front of him because everything outside that was becoming foggier by the second.

"I can be when a person is receptive to me."

"Meaning they're about to check out," Dean said.

"That's one reason," she said. It was strange to look at her and know that he was talking to the reaper, even though she didn't look grim at all.

"Why do you care about me?"

"I've come for you twice, Dean, and both times you returned to life."

"I'm not ready to die, that's not new."

"Your luck is exceptional."

"Runs in the family." Mostly.

"Some things do."

"And what do your folks think of your job?" If she even had anyone to claim her. He was talking to keep himself awake, but learning everything he could about Death wasn't an opportunity he should miss out on.

"We're the Endless, each of us is an embodiment of our tasks."

"How many of you are there?"

"Seven."

"Odd family?"

"Only as much as any I've seen."

"Have you ever dealt with one who got away? Before me, I mean-" Dean stopped to breathe quickly through a painful spasm.

She watched and put her hand on his chest. Her palm lifted with the movement of his ribcage, and he felt the pain ease slightly.

In a glance, she could have been a kid, heading home from a party, eyeliner a little smudged with sweat from dancing, clothes dark enough to fit the night, just one of many lonely outsiders. But when he looked at her directly and for more than a second, Dean saw through the obvious and right to the truth.

There was more of her than his eyesight could see; the edges extended beyond her profile He could buy her not needing to turn her attention away from him; multitasking could have been her invention.

"The sun's almost up," she said cheerfully, and Dean jerked his head in the direction of the horizon. Light was beginning to lay itself against the world, and Dean imagined he could feel it touching him, leading the way for Sam.

"Yeah. Sam's coming." It was as much a fact as the sunrise. He fixed on that as he breathed slowly.

"There's still time," she said.

"So are you going to keep showing up?"

"You may not remember this, but you'll know me."

"Everything comes around again," Dean recited.

'And I expect we'll be seeing each other, Dean Winchester," she said.

Dean heard the rumbling of the Impala and then it cutting off. Sam's footsteps came toward him and he watched his companion fade out. By the time Sam stumbled to a halt and dropped down beside him, Dean couldn't see her anymore, but he was going to remember and keep looking.


End file.
